


Smells Like

by wisdomeagle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly
Genre: Confinement, Let's Be Bad Guys, Making Out, Multi, Scents & Smells, Tight Spaces, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-13
Updated: 2006-04-13
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/pseuds/wisdomeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're the kind of people who live underground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smells Like

**Author's Note:**

> For kataclysmic in the [Valentine's Day Hearts and Flowers Fluffy-Thon](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/590442.html).

The hole is just deep enough for three bodies if they squish, and that _if_ makes Faith feel like about ten cents, cuz she's got one leg pushed up hard against the dirt wall and the other bent double against Mal's girl, who's doing a piss-poor job of faking tears. 

"How long we gonna sit here?" Mal asks, and Faith shoves as hard as she can to get the girl off her so she can rasp out, "Don't know."

"Don't know?" The girl sounds offended now, but everything she sounds like is everything she isn't. There's acres of steel under her skin, and who knows in this town if that's literal metal or just hard-heartedness. Doesn't matter. 

"Don't know," Faith repeats. "Honest to God, I don't know how long B and her band of merry men'll be out here."

"You enjoy spendin' time in graves?" Mal asks.

Faith tries to shrug and bruises her shoulder against against a clump of rock. "Dammit," she mutters. "It's what I do."

Mal thinks about that for awhile while Faith tries to get herself more comfy and ends up accidentally almost dry-humping Mal's girlfriend. That reminds her. "Hey, you, space cadet."

"What?"

"You gotta name?"

"Molly," she says at the same time that Mal says, "She don't."

"Right." 

Not like Faith cares about knowing someone's name before she's got her groin pressed against her backside, but still, it gives their hideyhole some context more real than the screams and jeers and giggling coming from above, Willow's titter, Giles's tsking disapproval.

Down here it smells like grave rot and like neither Mal nor Molly has taken a shower in something like five hundred years. Mal smells just rank, manlike, which isn't bad but isn't appetizing, but Molly's hair smells girl-sweet with sweat, and though it's gross Faith's turned on by that. 

"I got one!" Xander says too loudly, summoning vamps from at least three blocks away if Faith knows her gig. Mal tries to rub his forehead and accidentally smacks Faith in the cheek. She checks her punch only just in time.

"Sorry. Instinct."

"You've got some fine instincts," he says, sounding worried.

"Yeah," Faith says, and stretches over Molly's shoulder to kiss him.

"What?" Molly asks, but Faith tunes her out. Just Mal, just his mouth, just the hard kiss and the taste of grit and the way her hand feels against the coiled tension in his neck. She's nothing but mouth, nothing but cunt, nothing but kissing, nothing but tongue, until Molly yanks them apart and kisses Faith.

Now it's Faith's turn to go what?

"He any good?" Molly whispers, soft. "He just what you want him to be?" Then her voice is so low that even though there's only a few inches separating them, Faith can just barely hear. "I can be better."

She curls even closer to Faith, lizard-like, and licks the side of her neck. 

"I think she's already seduced," Mal says mildly, but Faith can see that he's hard. She grins.

"Know what tonight is?" she asks.

"Day of the dead?" Molly guesses.

"That's every day in Sunnydale. Nah, it's Valent -- it's a romantic holiday. As soon as the Scoobies go home, B and her boy will be busy in the next crypt over."

Molly peers into Faith's face, and Faith can't read her but thinks she's looking for the trick in Faith's words.

"No lie," she says. "They'll be kissing like crazy and trying not to have sex."

Mal raises an eyebrow. "No way to run a marriage."

"That's true," Molly says, earnest, and looks at Mal, full of suggestion. 

"What's _that_ meant to be?" he asks.

"I'm only saying..."

"Yes?"

"Nothing." Molly shakes her head and her hair, sweet and sticky, swings close to Faith's face.

"Watch it."

"They thinkin' about quittin' anytime soon?"

"No telling with do-gooders," Faith says.

"Sure 'nuff," Molly says, looking right past Faith and focusing on Mal. "Anyone else thinking we could stop sitting around and make a run for it? Or are we the kind of thieves who lay low and wait for the good guys to come to us?"

"I'm biding my time," Mal replies.

"And I'm hedging my bets."

"No need," Molly points out.

"Yeah? You got a better offer?"

"Sure," Molly says, eyes open wide and full of honesty that may be feigned, who cares. She knows what's being offered and it smells like freedom. Their ship isn't much and it's crash-landed now, but worse things happen to Faith over breakfast in Sunnydale, starting with her coffee, and breaking free of doing good is so worth it she doesn't even consider, just tugs her sleeves down, pulls herself up to standing using a root in the dirt and Molly's hair, and waves her arms as Mal and Molly scramble to their feet.

"Hey, B! Come and get us!"


End file.
